


Silver Grey Skies

by LittleLynn



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, More Tags to be added as I go, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silver never forgets the naval officer who helped him from an already bad and swiftly deteriorating situation, he never forgets his own helplessness and vows never to be helpless again. </p><p>But the man Silver meets ten years later is not the man he remembers, and James doesn't seem to remember Silver at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killmycreed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmycreed/gifts).



> An ongoing birthday and christmas present for the beautiful and talented killmycreed, who is blessing this fic with her amazing art skills
> 
> The title is inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zjsud3Cdj8k) which gives us both silverflint feels
> 
> Warning: The very start of this fic contains some seriously dubious consent that develops into non-con and more potential non-con, it is not between Silver and Flint, but proceed with caution <3
> 
> The beginning is set a bit before James meets the Hamiltons, Silver is around 17

 

For someone who was already becoming so very adept at self-preservation, Silver should really know better than this by now.

He should know that there was a decent chance that every time he sought out encounters such as these, he risked them ending rather badly for him.

Yet here he was once again, pressed up against a wall so viciously that it was cutting his face, hand on the back of his neck that was bound to leave bruises, the other hand brutishly holding his wrists and twisting them at an angle that made his arms hurt and he knew he was going to be left bleeding after the man behind him was done.

Still he supposed it was his own fault really, he was the one who had gone looking for it, he had seen the man’s interest and pursued it. He had quite literally, asked for it, he supposed, even if this was far from what he had intended.

Of his five encounters it was the third to be cruel. He should have learnt his lesson after the first one, he should never have required a second lesson, let alone a third. He wondered what made some of them hate him so much, Silver reckoned that it actually had very little to do with him personally and much more with how much they hated themselves simply for what they were.

Silver was unsure if he hated himself, in general no he did not, but in these moments there was not much he liked either. He tried to drown out the various things the brute behind him was calling him, saying to him, but he supposed some of it was bound to make it through, perhaps the part of him that listened was the part that thought what he said was true and believed it. Either way, it was still his own fault he was in this position in the first place.

Attempting to push the man off him when it became clear this was not going to be a pleasant encounter had earned him a right hook against his jaw, one of the man’s rings definitely cutting him. Though he was stupid enough to risk these situations still, Silver had learned that the best thing to do about it was go as limp as he could manage, to try to keep from making it hurt more or gaining another punch, or worse. He bit down hard on his lip, long after he could already taste blood to keep from screaming out in pain, that was never well received and just ended with more bruises.

When he was done he pulled out of Silver roughly and his parting words were ‘you deserved what you got’ spat at him and Silver was afraid he had to agree, even though he knew that he still would not learn and it would only take a month after the bruises and cuts had healed for him to dare to think with the wrong head again. He had most definitely deserved it, he knew better.

Silver righted his clothes as best he could and he expected to be left there in the back alley, that was what tended to happen, even with the nicer men he had found, instead Silver found himself being hauled by a bruising grip on his bicep back towards the tavern with the man hollering something at his cronies and Silver was suddenly instilled with the very real fear that he might have intentions of _passing him around_.

Silver had never been much of a fighter, but as they went back into the tavern he did his best to try and get the man off of his arm so he might slip away, but it was in vain and all it earned him was a slap about the face and a sneer. He wondered if the proprietor of the tavern might try to break up the fight, but it was a busy and noisy place and it wasn’t so much a fight given how easily the other man overpowered him. He probably had about sixty pounds of muscle and at least eight years on Silver, there was no way he could win a fight, or even it seems manage to really cause one.

He knew if he wanted to survive in this world without being able to fight his way out of a situation he would have to find another way to do it.

Still he kept struggling, fear of what it seemed might be about to happen setting into his bones.  The man – he was glad now that he had never been offered a name, he did not wish to remember it – turned on him angrily and raised his hand ready to hit him again.

Silver closed his eyes and steeled himself for the blow, but it never came, and when he opened them again he felt an overwhelming mixture of shock and relief.

A man in navy dress with a cold and stern face had a tight grip on the man’s forearm, stopping the blow that had been coming to Silver mid-flight and preventing it from touching him.

“Let him go.” The navy man’s voice brokered no room for argument, there was a tense moment and the whole tavern seemed to have quieted to watch what was going on, Silver hoped they only thought it was a fight and didn’t stop to question what over.

The two men stared at each other, Silver was hardly even a part of this occasion, it was between the other two and he couldn’t help but be suspicious of the man who had decided to come to his rescue. He resented needing rescue, he prided himself on being able to take care of himself.

No one seemed to breathe for the few seconds the two stared each other down, like everyone knew that if there was a fight it was going to be a bad one, Silver wondered if the navy man had a reputation for violence, or it was just the uniform that managed to quiet the unruly patrons.

Silver’s arm was released and he gathered it to himself quickly, taking a few steps away, a limp in his step and the pain in his face and body returning as the adrenalin from fear wore off slightly.

Very slowly, the navy officer released the man’s arm and with a final warning look to the man, turned his gaze on Silver. Maybe the look was supposed to be reassuring or kind, but Silver was too shaken by what had almost happened, he made for the door despite the pain walking caused him and despite the fact he had nowhere to go.

He had had to abandon the ship he was on after an unfortunate run in with the bosun and had intended to find another to join within the week, so far he had not been successful. He hoped he had enough coin to scrounge a room at one of the inns, he did not fancy making do in the open tonight, no matter how warm the weather was.

“Are you alright?” Silver jumped at the voice and spun, it seemed he had paused to ponder where he could even go long enough for the navy man to catch him. His voice was not like it had been in the tavern, it was unexpectedly soft. A gentle hand steadied him as he tripped slightly when his sudden movement had sent fresh sparks of pain through him.

“What do you want?” Silver asked, trying to work out what this man’s game was, why he had helped Silver, from his experience no one did anything without expecting something in return.

“It looked as though he was hurting you. I want to check that you are okay.” Maybe there was be a trace of amusement in the man’s voice were it not for the way his eyes were tracing the cuts on Silver’s face with a look of concern.

“What do you want in return?” Silver asked, wondering what the man’s intentions could be in helping him like he had.

“Return for what?”

“Helping me.” Silver grit out, he hated that he had needed help, he was stupid to have ever let himself get caught in that situation.

“Nothing.”

“People don’t have a habit of doing something for nothing.” Silver said, keeping his voice guarded and trying to figure out the man in front of him.

“Maybe I don’t consider helping someone ‘nothing’.”

“Well then you’d be the first.” Silver pointed out, he hadn’t meant to sound so derisive, but it was still true, the navy man’s brow furrowed and he set that concerned look on Silver again.

“Has this happened before?” The man asked, he was frowning, Silver could not fathom why he would care if it had or hadn’t happened before.

“That was not what I meant.” Silver gave him a non-answer, his voice was as tired as he felt all of a sudden, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of wanting to go home, the fact that he didn’t have one only made it harder to stomach.

“I will walk you to your home.” The man told him, for it was not a request.

“No.” Silver protested, he hadn’t even figured out where he was going yet, but the navy man fixed him with a frank look.

“You are young, slight and visibly hurt. You will not make it one hundred yards before someone picks you for an easy target to mug. I will walk you, I would hate to have saved you from the men in the tavern only for you to get attacked outside.” It made sense, not that Silver had anything of vaule worth mugging him for, but of course an attacker would not know that.

Silver felt a few things in that moment, resentment for the fact he had needed saving, gratefulness for the man standing in front of him who seemed to genuinely bear him no ill will, though he could not get rid of his suspicions entirely just yet, but most overwhelmingly, Silver felt a resolve, a resolve never to need saving again, to be able to get himself out of any situation he found himself in in the future.

The navy man waited patiently for Silver to start walking in the direction of his home, Silver bit at his lip, it was a nervous habit from his childhood, and one that he thought he had eradicated. 

“Whenever you’re ready.” The navy man said, his voice was an amused drawl and Silver would have smiled at it if his mind wasn’t busy trying to grasp for someone he could go.

It only took a little while for realisation to dawn on the navy man’s face. 

“I keep a small apartment, it is not far.” He said, Silver was glad he had not directly addressed his homelessness, his pride he found couldn’t bear to have even more of his helplessness unveiled in words, but still Silver took an instinctive step back. “I am not going to hurt you.” Silver believed him, but he was still hesitant.

“I can’t pay you.”

“I am aware.”

“I’m fine on my own.”

“You need to do something about those cuts on your face. You need a good night’s sleep.” The man told him, Silver couldn’t help but fall into step beside him, he noticed the deliberately slow pace the man was setting, so that Silver could keep up despite his discomfort and hurt, the limp in his step.

“I don’t even know your name.” Silver said, he wasn’t sure why he cared all of a sudden, but he did, so he asked.

“It’s James, Mcgraw.” He added his surname almost as an afterthought, like he wasn’t sure at first if he wanted to give his full name, but he did, maybe it was intended as a sign of good faith, maybe he was overthinking things.

It was a nice name, Silver thought, though he did not offer his own in return and James did not ask, maybe that was supposed to be a sign of good faith as well, or maybe he simply did not care to know.

James walked with the bearing of a navy man, stiff posture, every movement purposeful and efficient. His uniform was pristine, something which was at odds with the establishment they had met in, clearly James took pride in his position and worked to keep his uniform neat and clean. Silver wondered again why such a man gave a single shit what happened to him.

He was handsome too, his features perhaps hardened by the sea-faring life but they still retained something soft. Silver would guess James was about ten years older than him, strong too, with James Silver was either safer than he had been in a long time or in more danger than he had been before. He supposed he had no choice but to trust him right now, it wasn’t like he could run.

“It’s just up here.” James said, probably in an attempt to calm Silver’s nerves, or maybe he was concerned by the limp in his step, though Silver appreciated that he hadn’t offered or insisted to help him walk.

Silver caught himself wondering again exactly why James was helping him when he had nothing to give him in return, wonder what motive he could possibly have for bringing him back to his home to look after him. Silver then thought of how they probably looked, young street rat trailing behind a navy officer, visibly older than he was. Silver was struck by exactly how this would look, and suddenly he worried that that was what James might think it was too. He stopped walking and looked awkwardly at James, who seemed to be waiting patiently for him to say whatever it was he had to say.

“I’m not a whore.” Silver said, unsure if he should be ashamed of the mere fact he had to say it, he wished he could pass off having to say things like that with a confident grin, maybe he could teach himself to be able to do it convincingly.

“I never said you were.” James answered, Silver was still uneasy, James must have noticed because he spoke again. “I am not going to hurt you.”

Silver guessed that in his current state pretty much anything would hurt, so James claiming he wasn’t going to hurt him doubled as saying he wasn’t going to try to fuck him either. He wondered if James would want to if he wasn’t limping and bleeding, but he pushed the thought aside, it wasn’t helpful.

He followed James up the stairs, trying and failing not to wince with every single step, he had never had a good tolerance for pain. James unlocked the door to a single room, but it was clean and dry and smelt nice and was a whole lot more than Silver had been expecting to have tonight, that was for sure.

“Sit.” James told him when Silver lingered awkwardly in the doorway, well it was more of an order, probably a side effect of being in the navy.

Silver sat in the lumpy but comfortable armchair James had indicted, wincing again as his body reminded him of exactly what had happened that evening. James must have heard him because he was frowning, but there wasn’t really anything to do about it, Silver had been about ready to drop from his feet anyway.

Silver watched as James moved around the room, getting a bowl of water, a clean looking rag and a bottle of something.

“What’re you doing?” Silver asked as James came over to him with the bits he had gathered, Silver wary enough to ask, but weary enough not to bother moving.

“Something about all those cuts on your face.” James replied matter-of-factly, Silver was glad of it, it meant it didn’t sound like pity.

“I’ll do it myself.” Silver said, he didn’t enjoy feeling like a helpless damsel any more than he enjoyed feeling reliant on anyone who wasn’t himself.

“You can’t see what you are doing.” James pointed out, stood in front of Silver, dipping the cloth into the bowl of water.

“I can tell where it hurts.” Silver said, although he knew it was a weak argument, it didn’t stop the petulant moan in his tone.

“Stop being deliberately difficult. I am trying to help you.” James told him. “I’m just going to clean your cuts.”  

James leant down and very gently held Silver’s jaw as he ran the wet cloth down his face, pulling away the blood and general grime gathered there before dipping the cloth back into the water and carefully wiping at more of his face. James’ hand was roughened and calloused, presumably from his life at sea, but it was soft and warm against Silver’s face as he held him still. 

“I thought you were just going to clean my cuts.” Silver swallowed thickly, James smelt like the sea, like salt and fresh air and something else that felt almost as though it were physically drawing Silver towards it.

“Well frankly your whole face looks like shit.” James smiled, a slight laugh in his voice and something simultaneously tightened and loosened in Silver’s chest.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.” Silver grinned back, trying to keep the lightened mood, but he could tell it was the wrong thing to say as James’ features tightened.

“I sincerely hope you do not think that.” James pulled back and stopped trying to clean Silver’s face, giving him a look somewhere between stern and concerned, Silver just shrugged.

“I was the one who went out looking for something I know is dangerous, I was the one who noticed his interest and I was the one who propositioned him. I knew there was a chance of unpleasantness and I risked it anyway. My fault.” Silver explained, he couldn’t read James’ expression, but there was a fire in his voice when he spoke.

“No. You might have been foolish but that does not give him – or _anyone_ – the right to hurt you like that. And then to drag you back to their friends so that they might have a turn at hurting you as well.” James’ voice was filled with hatred and disgust for the men in the tavern and Silver realised that he was right, there was a very dangerous man lurking just below the civilised veneer of James, just as he realised he had no reason to fear him.  

James’ words brokered no room for argument, so even if Silver found them a little hard to believe –at least part of it had to be his fault – he did not voice it, and he appreciated the sentiment anyway, relaxed a little further into his surroundings. James was now tipping a small amount of the bottled liquid onto the cloth and Silver could smell the alcohol.

“This is going to sting.” James told him gently and Silver shied away from the touch, he stung enough already.

“I’ll be alright without it.”

“The cuts need to be cleaned. They’ll heal faster.” James told him and Silver knew he was being difficult and forced himself not to be, letting James take his face in on gentle hand again.

Silver hissed as James dabbed the alcohol soaked cloth against the worst of his cuts, but then he could feel a thumb softly stroking over his other cheek in a soothing gesture where he held Silver still, Silver wasn’t even sure James knew he was doing it, but it made him relax into the kind touch anyway.

James carefully cleaned the cuts and grazes littering Silver’s face and somewhere along the way Silver’s eyes had slipped closed, tipping his face and pushing it ever so slightly into the thumb stroking his relatively unhurt right cheek. If James noticed him do it he didn’t seemed to mind.

“There.” James said quietly and Silver opened his eyes, overwhelmed with the urge to kiss James, but he didn’t, he didn’t think James wanted him to.

Neither of them said anything though, and neither of them moved for a little while, James’ eyes were combing over his face and neck and arms, a soft touch stroked against a bruise on his neck before James swiftly pulled his hand away again.

“Do you need help with anything…else?” James asked, he was trying not to sound awkward, they both knew what he was talking about and Silver was quick to shake his head.

“No.” He didn’t bother to say ‘I’m fine’ because they both knew it wasn’t true, there didn’t seem to be much point in pretending to be anymore.

“If you’re bleeding.” James’ voice was halting, he didn’t want to push.

“It’ll be fine. I always heal.” He tried to add lightly, but James sobered again.

“This has happened before?”

“A couple of times.” Silver shrugged, it was like he said, he knew better, he deserved it really.

“You have to be more careful.” James said, his voice insisting, concerned.

“I know.” Silver nodded slowly, he needed to learn how to get away, no matter what, he needed to learn how to survive despite being poor in a fight. He remembered his mother saying that words could be more powerful than any weapon, any canon, maybe she was right, maybe he could find a way to use words instead.

Silver knew he should probably leave before he outstayed his welcome, he wanted to sink into the warmth and kindness of James but knew that he shouldn’t, knew James would never welcome an advance, not after how he had found Silver, not as he would probably think it was just because Silver wished to repay him somehow.  

“I should go.” Silver did say awkwardly after allowing himself a few more moments of James checking him over one last time.

“Where will you go?” James asked, his voice was gentle, he knew there was nowhere.

“I’ll find somewhere.” Silver shrugged, pretending like it did not bother him.

“Stay here.” James said and Silver noticed that it was very carefully not an order. “Be safe for the night at least.”

Silver did not like charity, he didn’t like to be pitied, he didn’t like not being able to take care of himself. But he liked James, he liked the hard edge in his voice and the way it could soften so as well, he liked his reddish hair and the ponytail it was pulled into, he liked how gentle his calloused hands could be and he liked the way he felt safe in this room.

“Thank you.” Silver never said thank you.

“You can take the bed.” James told him, nodding towards it in the corner.

“I can’t kick you from your own bed.” Silver protested, the floor would still be better than he managed most days.

“I offered. I do not mind the chair and you are hurt. You need the rest.” James’ voce once again left no room for Silver to argue and he guessed James was a rather good naval officer, able to get the men to follow his orders easily, even if the tone he took with Silver must be softer than what he used on his ship. 

He wondered what ship James was on, wondered if there would be a place for him on it, he could claim to be able to cook, it couldn’t be too hard to learn. But he knew he shouldn’t ask him, shouldn’t attempt to follow, it was risky in life to care about anyone’s skin other than your own, something Silver was quickly learning, and if he stayed around James he knew he would not be able to help it, in the end.

“My clothes are filthy.” Silver pointed out, realising the linen like everything else in the room was clean. “I’m filthy.” Silver then added.

“Linen can be washed.” James answered, giving an exasperated sigh when Silver stood awkwardly at the side of the bed that was not his. “Take off your shoes and your shirt and whatever else you need to be comfortable and go to sleep.”

It was the amusement, almost fond, that made Silver comply, or maybe it was just James. He removed his shirt, seeing concern alive in James’ eyes again as he saw the fresh bruises blooming on his skin. Silver shucked his boots and filthy trousers and crawled into the bed in his underclothes, sighing at the feeling of clean sheets around him. He hadn’t felt this safe since he was a small child who could still hold his mother’s hand.

James doused the candles and lanterns scattered about the room and left it dark, Silver was surprised at how quickly he felt sleep pulling at him, slipping under despite the new place, he felt safe and warm, he would enjoy it while he could.

When Silver woke there was light streaming into the room through the thin curtains and he felt worlds better than he had the previous night. James was moving around the room, he must have let Silver sleep, he probably had somewhere he needed to be, yet here he was, letting Silver rest. He watched James from where he lay, James’ posture belayed him as a military man, his uniform separating him out as navy. Silver saw him rubbing a hand at his neck and he worried he had hrt it by sleeping in the chair.

He allowed himself only a moment of watching before he made himself sit, upon which he discovered he still hurt and was sore all over, he hissed out in pain when he sat and James turned immediately.

“I feel a lot better than I did last night.” Silver found himself saying, it settled something in James’ features.

“Do you need help?” James asked as Silver struggled into his clothes, trying to avoid the worst of his hurts. He was half tempted to say he did just to have the other man close, but he shook his head.

He faltered when pulling on one of his boots but there was a steady hand under his arm seconds. Silver wondered why it wasn’t hurting his pride to admit he needed help, maybe it was just the gentle way in which James offered it, maybe it was because he liked having him close, maybe it was because James made him feel warm, or maybe it was simply because the way James had found him he really did not have any pride left to protect. In the end it didn’t matter what it was.

Silver made to leave, knowing he had to or he would never be able to do it, besides, he didn’t want James to have to throw him out when he inevitably outstayed his welcome.

“You need to eat something.” James said, catching Silver’s wrist and stopping him from going.

He gave Silver breakfast and Silver did not miss the soft old cushion that had been put on the chair for him, though neither of them mentioned it, a concession to the tatters of Silver’s pride were the small things James did not acknowledge in words. James stood while Silver ate, occasionally refilling his cup with water and subtly shifting more food onto his plate as Silver ate in ravenous hunger, until Silver began to slow, he had been hungry for a long while.

“I fear in just one night and morning you have ruined me.” Silver joked, James’ brow laced with concern but he did not say anything, though he stayed close. He noticed that James’ eyes were green, he hadn’t been able to see in the dark of the night before.

Silver was overwhelmed with the desire for James to _keep_ him and knew in that second that he needed to leave.

“I should go.” Silver said, standing from the chair and managing not to wince this time.

“You don’t have to.” James said, following Silver as he made his way to the door.

“Yes, I do.” Silver smiled and James looked reluctant but he nodded. Something warm settled in Silver’s chest knowing that James would let him stay, until he was completely better, maybe longer, but Silver did not want to be here for when he would inevitably be told to leave. It was easier to go now. He couldn’t afford to become reliant on someone.

They lingered at the door for a few moments, the air between them quiet and tense, but also soft somehow. It seemed Silver did not really want to leave and James did not particularly want him to go either, that concern making a faint crease in his brow again, Silver wanted to reach out with his hand and soothe the crease there.

The words ‘be careful’ were written on James’ face, though he managed not to voice them, Silver knew he was right, he needed to be less reckless, and usually he was, with everything else he was, too preoccupied with his own survival. But for some reason he continued to risk the danger in this area, and he would probably continue to, maybe because some part of him thought he deserved the violence, maybe because he enjoyed the pleasure on the occasion he found it, either way it hardly mattered. He was glad James had not let his parting words be ‘be careful’, it would make Silver feel guilty when he inevitable ignored them.

Silver knew he should not do it, but he could not help himself. He lent across the small space between them and stole a chaste kiss from James’ lips. They were softer than they had looked, his cheek was smooth when Silver dared to caress it lightly as he pressed his lips against James’.

Silver’s lips and hand were gone as quickly as they had been there as he stole his kiss. He only stayed long enough to read the gentle surprise in James’ face before he disappeared out the door and down the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! This is my first foray into this pairing, and in the next chapters they will be the Flint and Silver we know from the show, rather than these poor 10 years earlier babies that don't know what's coming for them :')


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately right now I'm in my final year and final two terms of uni, and given the amount of time and money it is costing my degree has to come first, so, updates are being waaay slower than I would like. However, the light at the end of the tunnel is getting ever closer so hopefully I will soon be able to update more regularly, but until then rest assured I have no abandoned the fic <3

 

 

Silver very briefly wondered to himself what on earth possessed him to claim that he was the cook, but then very quickly remembered that it had been to avoid imminent death; something which he had become rather adept at over the years. However, he was now faced with the issue that it was going to soon become pretty obvious that no, he was not in fact the cook.

Maybe he could bluff his way through it. He usually managed that.

But then again he was particularly abysmal at cooking. Maybe he would be able to jump ship again before he actually had to cook anything.

Not many things eluded Silver, but unfortunately cooking and fighting were key among the few things that did. The fighting didn’t much concern him, or at least it hadn’t until he’d found the ship being boarded by pirates – pirates under the notorious banner of Captain Flint nonetheless – due to the fact he had long since learned to talk his way out of just about anything. There was rarely a battle of wits that Silver couldn’t win at least, and it really wasn’t incredibly difficult to outwit most people, the large majority of people were so dim after all.

But despite escaping the horrid death that he had managed to avoid through the right lie, he was now facing the new problem, that being the prospect of actually having to cook something edible. Unfortunately no amount of lying of twisting the truth was going to cover up the fact that he hadn’t the slightest idea how to so much as boil an egg.

Silver continued to think his way through this latest problem as he was led back above deck, allowing himself to be pulled from his thoughts long enough to clock a mean looking bald man with some truly frightful scars preaching at the captured sailors and making a note to avoid that man at all costs. In fact the more of them Silver saw the more convinced he was that this was most definitely _not_ the place for him.

He was even almost regretting the stolen page stashed in his pocket, knowing it would likely give them plenty of reason to kill him, Silver wasn’t even entirely sure what it was, it was clearly coordinates, though of what he hadn’t the foggiest, but he figured it had to be valuable somehow, and that meant he could sell it, and Silver was never one to turn down something potentially useful. First he needed to get off this ship.

The stout man he was following stopped to speak to a tall and shirtless pirate with an almost disarmingly kind face, but Silver knew better than to trust appearances, he went to enough trouble to make himself seem insignificant and as unthreatening as possible after all.

Silver then decided to smile and realised that friendly face or no it would clearly take a long while to integrate yourself with this crew. Not that he had any intention of trying, or staying long enough to make it worthwhile.

Silver was pretty sure he hadn’t encountered the legendary Captain Flint yet, from his reputation he seemed like the kind of man that you would just know when you had the misfortunate to meet him. Silver was certain the bald scarred man was not Flint, he was trying far too hard. Though there seemed to be some undercurrent of unease among the crew. A mutiny could be a rather convenient time to slip away unnoticed while everyone else was otherwise occupied.

Silver made himself scarce, tucking himself away from the rest of the crew, the last thing he needed was to become memorable in any way shape or form. He had realised early on that being all but invisible was an extremely useful survival skill. The fewer people even realised he was there, the easier it would be to disappear when they came into port.

Silver could make an educated guess that the ship would be heading to the notorious port of Nassau sooner or later, which probably wasn’t a bad place to flog the page, but then he would be faced with the prospect of either staying with pirates (not bloody likely, far too volatile for his tastes) or finding some way back to (slightly) more respectable establishments.  

The one with the oddly kind face – Billy apparently – had donned a shirt and found Silver, taking him back below decks, presumably towards the galley. He had been hoping to postpone this at least for a while. Still, Silver smiled and awkwardly raised a hand at the man he was introduced to, Randal, and it took only a few moments for him to realise that there were more than a few lights out in his head. Of course stupid didn’t necessarily mean harmless. It was also clear that Randal had taken an immediate dislike to Silver because he was apparently stealing his job. Fantastic.

Silver prided himself on tricking people into liking him, but it was much more difficult to do that with someone who wasn’t even clever enough to understand his tricks.

Silver was however then reminded rather firmly by Billy that Randal had the loyalty of the crew and Silver did not. Something which was unlikely to ever occur as he had stolen from them before he even met them – which was impressive, when you thought about it.

Silver merely gave Billy a wry smile after his thinly veiled warning, and Billy left. They really were not a friendly bunch, not that Silver had expected anything different.

When Billy was safely back above decks and Randal was occupied doing whatever it was he was doing – some combination of petting a cat and organising food by the looks of it – Silver snuck away into a secluded corner so that he could finally take a good look at whatever it was he had stolen off that oaf, the actual cook. Funny how escape routes can come in the strangest forms.

Silver immediately started to commit them to memory, you never knew when you might lose something. Now he just needed to find someone to buy it. Though that would probably be much easier when he knew exactly what _it_ was.

Unfortunately that would mean crossing the infamous captain Flint. Maybe he just wouldn’t mention where he had got it, and if word got out then well, there had to be at least one pirate on this island stupid enough to try it.

Having said that, Silver hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the captain since boarding the ship. He counted himself pretty lucky for that. Best Flint didn’t know the face if he ever found out who had robbed him.

The crew largely ignored him, which was absolutely fine by Silver, ideal in fact, who knew pirates would be so accommodating.

Unsurprisingly, Silver had been right, and the very first place they pulled into was Nassau, not that long after he had found himself with the pirates. Now he found himself veritably knee deep in them.

What Silver wanted was to find the book the page had come from, make certain he had what he thought he had – he liked to know when he was conning someone, rather than doing it by accident and therefore being unprepared for the potential backlash.

He was surprised to be told that the captain liked books, somehow it couldn’t have been further from what he expected to hear about the fearsome captain Flint.

Silver looked back at the ship, wondering how he was going to grab a peek at that book now.

However, before he could even begin to formulate a plan Silver fund himself being dragged away from an overly jovial crewman – Logan, he thinks – was dragging him away saying something about new crewmates and _Blackbeard_ and Silver would be lying if he claimed not to be at least a little bit scared in that moment.

\-----

Max was terrifying.

Silver had never met a more formidably intelligent person in his life. And she was almost as conniving as he was.

But however much respect Silver might have for such a resourceful young woman, he really wished that piece of paper was not currently in her hands. That being said, she was proving rather useful when it came to finding someone to sell it too, with the added bonus that Silver wasn’t going to have to show his face.

He didn’t bother to mention that it helped his concentration on the page greatly that the fairer sex did little for him, though Silver was not one to turn down pleasant sensations, especially when that came with a distinct lack of physical danger.

Though of course now she had the page and was his ‘partner’ in selling it he supposed there was a little physical danger.

He admitted he wasn’t sure what it was yet, and Max let him go with a suggestion that he found out, and well, he couldn’t disagree with here there. So they headed out to the ship on a small row boat – Max was surprisingly talented at rowing, Silver was not – he didn’t expect anyone to notice, the crew was already safely ensconced in whores or drink or both by now. But he still had no idea where the captain was, didn’t even know what he looked like yet.

He met no one as he climbed aboard, stealing away into the captain’s cabin and becoming distracted by all the unexpected neatly-kept books lining the shelves – the captain seemed to love his books indeed, though Silver doubted he would be willing to share - before finding the very specific book he was looking for.

He couldn’t quite believe what he was reading, it took a moment for the information to really sink in.  

He had been right, it was definitely a coordinates, rather pivotal ones at that.

Silver redoubled his determination to learn the pages by heart. The _Urca de Lima_ was not the kind of thing one wanted to lose after all. Silver was almost dizzy thinking about how much he would be able to sell this page for, he had no interest in chasing after something so ridiculous, not when he could just sell the page for a weighty price and half the danger.

Almost thrumming with excitement Silver put everything back as he had found it and raced back out of the cabin. The money he could get for this page would be enough for him to extricate himself from this miserable existence for good. Jesus with the amount they would get for this Max could happily have half of it he would still have more than enough to sail off into the fucking sunset for good.

When he told her he could tell that she was excited, her eyes got this dangerous, _plotting_ , gleam in her eyes and Silver realised he probably couldn’t have a better partner, because instead of acting like a small and excited child – as he arguably was doing – she was calm and scheming, pointing out they still needed to sell the thing without losing their lives and the value of the page had only made danger to themselves more likely.

Silver was inordinately relived for the first time in his life that he had so little taste for women, because if he did he was sure Max would seduce the page right out from under him, his share be damned. He had complete faith that she would find them a buyer in no time, but that didn’t mean he was stupid enough to trust her, their interests merely happened to be aligned at the moment.

He ended up being dragged back to the ship the next morning, the whole crew being assembled, and while Silver couldn’t feel less like a member of the crew, he did at least need to appear to be so, at least for a short while. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicions, lest someone notice he wasn’t there. And Billy was keeping a rather close eye on him.

Apparently the captain and the scarred man – Singleton – were having it out, which wasn’t good timing for him to use as an escape route, but didn’t really concern him anyway, so it hardly matter. Silver simply tucked himself into the shadows and waited for whatever it was that was going to happen to happen, so that he could get back to shore and he and Max could sell the page. Hopefully before Flint caught a glimpse of his face. The last thing he needed was someone with the reputation of Flint coming after him if he realised exactly who had taken the page. Remaining anonymous was merely a precaution.

He knew the captain was coming as he could feel the tension among the crew inch up just the smallest degree.

He didn’t recognise him at first.

It had been ten years after all, god only knows how often he had replayed that night and those kind hands and that face full of concern. The kiss he stole as he left. But it was ten years ago nonetheless.

He didn’t recognise him at first, or he didn’t want to.

His James Mcgraw wasn’t Flint, James was careful and kind and James had been _sweet_ for Christ sake. The two people were irreconcilable in Silver’s mind. Impossibly divergent.

And yet there he was. Addressing his crew. Notorious captain Flint.

What the hell had happened?

His face was harder, his features weathered by not only the sea by also whatever horror had turned him to a life of piracy, Silver knew there had to have been something. His hair was shorter, his beard longer, his tone colder, but it was still him.

He had seen a glimpse of the violence, the strength of James at that tavern, but that had evolved into something entirely new.

Silver watched, unable to look away as James spoke, cataloguing the differences, trying to force himself to believe what his eyes and ears were telling him.

James spoke to his crew with a strange amount of sincerity and Silver felt himself go cold as Flint addressed the missing page, set the culprit up as not only an enemy of the captain, but an enemy of the entire crew. From _them_. Silver had no idea what to make of it when the accusation was turned on Singleton, but he knew James believed what he was saying, believed Singleton had taken it.

He was relieved when Singleton ended up on the end of the accusation, then there was talk of thievery being punishable by death as was false accusal and Silver didn’t like the idea of either of them being punished for either of those things. Because surely in this moment they were both guilty.

Silver almost wanted to give it back. He wanted to give it back because he never wanted to steal anything more than a kiss from James, he didn’t want to take what wasn’t offered from the only person who had ever given a shit. That was someone he could give back to instead, that he wanted to give back to instead.

Maybe later, quietly, Silver could give it back, James wouldn’t hurt him, he would understand he was just trying to survive, though he was still too much of a reckless fool, and it would be okay to just give it back.

But then James’ eyes met his and Silver froze. It only latest a second, but Silver knew what he saw there, or rather what he did not.

James did not recognise him. He was sure of it.

He told himself it had been ten years after all, and luckily he wasn’t still the gangly late teen he was then, he had grown up and changed far more than James had. But it still didn’t stop the traitorous stab of hurt that despite all his longings, that night had meant far more to him that it had to James.

James’ face was emblazoned in his mind, of course he was, he had been the knight in shining armour, what had Silver been really? Nothing. That much was clear, at least now. The stark truth of it hurt, even if he was determined not to let it show.

Maybe it was better he didn’t recognise Silver, maybe it simplified things.

Then Silver’s thoughts were cut short as swords were being drawn and Silver had no idea how things had escalated so quickly but he knew he _needed_ James to win this fight because otherwise it was going to be his fault. As if his self-loathing could reach new heights he could be responsible for the death of the only man who had ever shown him kindness.

He felt truly helpless for the first time in a very long time as he watched them fight. He hoped James lived up to Flint’s reputation.

It was a brutal and bloody fight and Silver wasn’t sure when exactly, but at some point Silver knew something was wrong. Something was brutal and ruthless and _murderous_. Something broken and almost frenzied. Even the hardened pirates surrounding the fight grew quiet. James did live up to captain Flint’s reputation after all it seemed.  

Silver had taken one step forward in pure terrified shock before he managed to stop himself.

It was jarring, to see a man who had shown Silver more kindness than he had ever received in his life before or since, drenched in blood, having killed someone under what Silver knew was a false accusation. He looked half mad, the saviour Silver had dreamed about so many times soaked in blood and all but raving at his crew. He might as well have been frothing at the mouth.

Silver knew something with perfect clarity in that moment.

This was not James. This was captain Flint.

James was gone.

It shook him when the thought reached him. Because James was gone, there was nothing stopping Flint from hurting him. And it would become clear soon enough that Singleton hadn’t had the page after all.

Silver needed to get off this ship. He couldn’t be here. Billy had lied for the captain, for whatever reason, maybe he had seen just like Silver that Flint had believed his own accusation. But that lie wouldn’t buy him much time.

He needed to get ashore and disappear. Sell the page without anyone knowing who had done it and he needed to get as far away from pirates as possible.

He needed to get as far away from this person, this person who wore James’ face but was not him.

Maybe it was time that he forgot about James. The man he had hoped to run into again someday didn’t exist anymore and in his place was something else entirely.

A piece of Silver, the bit he didn’t listen too because it was the part that always landed him in bad situations, the part that still had him seek out men despite the constant reminders that it was not a good idea, that part of him whispered that maybe James was still there, maybe it was his turn to try and help him, try to find James underneath Flint. He wanted to know what had happened to the kind man he had met ten years earlier.

Silver forced the thought away. He had told James he would try and be more careful, and could he see the situation now Silver was pretty sure he would agree that he needed to get as far away from him as possible.

Flint changed his shirt and cleaned the blood off his face, Silver wasn’t sure if that made it easier or harder to stomach. He was unnerved by Randal, it seemed almost like he knew, though that might be paranoia. He felt he was probably right to be paranoid, after what he had just witnessed. Singleton had met a bloody end and the majority of the crew had liked him enough to consider him their next captain. No one gave a shit about Silver.

No one.

He went to the rail and somehow managed to keep it together. He needed off the ship, he could feel things closing in and somehow he just knew that together Flint, Billy and Gates were going to work out that there was actually only one person who feasibly could have gotten that page and that was someone who had already been on the ship. Him.

He knew the second they emerged from the captain’s cabin, eyes fixed on him, that they all knew. Billy, Gates and Flint. Not James. Flint.

He knew they couldn’t chase him openly, not after what had just happened, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t catch him. The ship was only so large after all.

Flint caught his eyes, they looked at each other and Flint knew he had the page, but that was all he knew.

He didn’t know Silver, that meant he needed to get off this ship, fast.

Silver had no choice, he jumped, an inelegant thing that he knew the crew would laugh about and hopefully put down to a desperation to find a whore. If people are laughing at you, they take much longer to realise how much cleverer than them you are. He made sure they laughed.

They were on the next boat. But Silver had time to get ashore and leave a conflicting trail of breadcrumbs, hopefully that would buy him and Max some time. She was getting them a truly obnoxious amount of pearls, five thousand pesos in fact. He just needed to get his half and get off this island as quickly as possible.

Maybe it was time to admit that the life of a sailor really wasn’t for him. With the money he could move inland.

Way inland.

Back in England even.

He just needed to not be here.

\-----

Things has spiralled, things always spiralled. Vane, a brute of a man had gotten involved with the deal and it was no longer simple.

If Silver was stupid enough to make friends anymore he would have been worried for Max, but she had made her own choices, Silver couldn’t have saved her from herself.

It became inevitable that either Flint or Vane would catch up with him at the Wrecks. Silver knew the only way to survive this was going to be to make himself invaluable, so he took one last look at the page and burned it.

He hoped Vane would find him first, that would be so much simpler for him, so of course it was Flint that grabbed him and slammed him up against the rocks.

Even up so close they were pressed together Flint still did not recognise, it managed to cut more than the rocks in his back. Silver held his hands up in surrender, forced himself not to think of the ways they were pressed up against one another, a perverted version of one of his favourite fantasies, there was no affection here.

“Where’s the page?” Flint demanded, he was terrifying, in his single minded focus.

There was a knife at his throat, James was gone.   

Flint dragged him away from the rocks before vane could catch up to them. There was a hard hand on his wrist as he was dragged along. He wanted to say something but there wasn’t a single word that came to mind, for the first time in his life Silver had no clue what to say.

Then he realised what he needed to do. He needed to forget about James Mcgraw as thoroughly as Flint clearly had. He needed to forget about ten years ago as completely as Flint had. He needed to pretend like it had never happened. To play his part as John Silver – a part he had perfected over the years – and get out at the soonest possibility.

Flint left him with Billy and Gates and it allowed him to sink back into that role with so much more ease. The grinning, unapologetic, impossibly likable chancer.

He was left with the Guthrie woman, stashed in her office until the captain could work out what the hell to do with him.

Smiling at his guard purely to irritate him, Silver settled down onto the floor and thought, it was what he did best, he could think his way out of just about anything. So long as he had time to think he could talk himself out of anything. He settled himself to get some sleep, he was perfectly safe after all, they needed him alive to get what was in his head, right now he was their most important asset.

While drifting off Silver found the resolve that had been temporary lost among his shock at Flint; he was going to survive this like he survived everything else, and then he was going to forget all about James Mcgraw.

His dreams were unkind. James’ hands were unkind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The future chapters will be set more between the episodes and in deleted scenes than this one was ^^ I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for your support on this fic, it means a lot! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes batman! An update! :')
> 
> I can only apologise for how long it has taken me to get around to updating this, but hey I'm a graduate now and am finishing up a couple of my other fics so I officially have time for this again and updates will now be fairly regular.
> 
> Super sorry for the wait, it won't happen again, I hope you still enjoy the fic <3

 

 

He had outsmarted them which was a good thing as far as Silver’s own survival went, but he had also pissed them all off endlessly, which was not so good for his own survival.

Refusing to give them the final coordinates they needed to force them to keep him alive gave him a few weeks to figure out how to get out of it alive. A fanciful part of himself wanted to remind Flint of James, to get him to just let Silver go, but he knew that was a bigger risk than he was willing to take right now. That and he didn’t want this imposter living in James’ skin to remember Silver’s most vulnerable moments, they weren’t Flint’s to have.

But Silver had never been able to help himself. It was what got him into so much trouble all the time, though it had also forced him to develop a knack for getting back out of trouble.

“Well, that’s a few weeks from now, we might be friends by then.” Silver wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to say it, some inane desire for it to be true probably, but that hardly mattered, what mattered was that it was cheeky and so hilariously unlikely that it made him look like an idiot.

This was going to be much easier if they thought he was an idiot.

Maybe it wouldn’t even matter if Flint did remember Silver in the end, because while he wasn’t James any more, Silver certainly wasn’t that helpless seventeen-year-old any more either.

Silver hadn’t been lying either; he _was_ a hard person not to like. The veneer he had created of the charming chancer, the lovable rogue was one he had perfected over time and was quite deliberately likable. Likeable and just nonsensical enough that it never took people long to lower their guard around him.

But Silver somehow knew that it wasn’t going to work on Flint. That the only way he was going to get Flint to spare him once this was all over, was by making himself valuable to the captain. He could do that. What was harder to do was ignore the reality that the man that had once saved him was now the man most likely to kill him.

Silver pushed that thought aside, he was good at pushing things aside now.

He spent his time on the beach subtly getting a feel for the crew. Most of them were (entirely unsurprisingly) your standard crop of ignorant pirates, with a few notable exceptions. There was Randall, who was clearly mad but the crew liked him and Silver had a sinking suspicious knew that he was the thief. Billy had a good heart, which was somewhat incongruous given the company he kept and absolutely did not like Silver one bit (that would need to be changed). Gates was so loyal to Flint it concerned the rest of the crew, how far that loyalty would stretch Silver did not know nor care to find out. There was Dufrense, he was too easily overlooked, Silver did not like him.

Then there was Flint. He was entirely different from his crew and Silver would wager that they had no idea just how much. He didn’t need to ask to know that even Gates had no idea that Flint had once been an officer in the Royal Navy. Not that anyone would believe it, if they were told. It baffled Silver exactly _how_ James had become Captain Flint, the most feared pirate in the world in just ten years.

Only the more he asked around, the more it became clear that it hadn’t been ten years, it had been less and it had been sudden. Captain Flint had just appeared one day, taking large prizes and terrorising English and Spanish vessels, terrorising _any_ vessels that had the misfortune to cross his path.

Silver was able to draw only one conclusion from this; _something_ had happened to make him hate his own country so viscerally that he turned from a loyal officer to a bane to the English fleet.

Silver could hardly fathom what could have happened to tear away James so completely and replace him with Flint.

Silver was sure that he had never hated England as much as he did in that moment.

Silver refocussed himself on the now and the immediate necessity to make Flint like him. He started by attempting to root out the remaining mutineers, he took the names to Billy. Billy remained stoic but Silver could tell that he’d made progress with the bosun.  

Currently he had an entirely different dilemma though; that being that he had absolutely no idea how to cook a pig. How to cook anything really. And apparently he had given half the crew the shits. Admittedly that probably wasn’t winning him any points with them. Still, he was claiming he had been the ships cook so he should probably maintain he could cook and that therefore whatever illness the crew had contracted was entirely unconnected to him.

The last person he expected to come to his rescue was Flint.

Then he remembered that Flint needed the crew to believe he really was the cook, and it wasn’t so surprising any more.

“How exactly does the most feared captain of the high seas learn how to spice and glaze a pig?” Maybe he said it because it fit nicely with his cheeky façade, maybe he said it because he wanted to remind Flint of who he had been before, see some flicker of James in those eyes. Half the time Silver himself didn’t know the reasons he said the things he did to Flint.

He futilely forced thoughts of James out of his head once more.

“What do you care?”

A far more interesting question than Flint knew because he had no idea who Silver was.

Flint told him there was no ‘we’ that there never was going to be one either, and Silver couldn’t help but agree, it seemed to him that getting away from Flint and his crew as fast as possible was the best thing he could possibly do for the preservation of his own life and sanity.

So he really couldn’t explain _why_ he then sat down and pressed for more conversation. He even told Flint to trust him, as if he would do such a stupid thing.

Silver turned his pig as instructed, and considered Flint from his vantage point by the spit. It was easy not to think of Flint as James, the differences between them were so stark, but it was hard not to compare them constantly in his head. Which was foolish really, he had barely known James after all, still Silver pondered what could have possibly happened to him.

Undeniably though, Flint was still attractive, albeit in a far more dangerous way than James had been. Silver got the feeling that stealing a kiss from Flint rather than James would be much like trying to take food from a shark; i.e. not advisable to people who wish to keep living. And Silver did very much intend to keep living.

He thought about it though, not really bothering to make an effort to stop himself now that people (including Flint) weren’t actively trying to kill him in the moment. Flint wouldn’t be gentle like he might have once been with Silver, a kiss he stole off a near-stranger ten years ago would be replaced, Silver imagined, with something that felt more like a fight than a kiss. By virtue of his own recklessness Silver hadn’t had many careful lovers (if you could call trysts in dark places _lovers_ ). Even those who were not interested in hurting him were rarely gentle. Silver always shrugged it off, he had found in his few experiences with gentleness that he preferred a rougher hand anyway; or at least that was what he told himself. Gentleness in dark alleys was unexpected, it didn’t belong there, and Silver was never sure how to react to it. Rough hands and quick pleasure was far easier to deal with.

He’d always imagined James would be gentle, but he was certain Flint wouldn’t be. Not with him anyway, not under these new circumstances. Gentle would require letting your guard down, and Silver could not imagine that now.

Flint looked over and caught his eye – caught him staring – so Silver gave him his most winning smile and Flint repaid him with a scowl as he turned back to his papers.

Five minutes later Flint came storming over (the part of Silver not so good at survival may have found it more attractive than any sane person would) and hissed at him that he was burning the pig.

“It’s not my fault, I was distracted.” Silver complained, but Flint clearly caught his meaning though his face remained stoic and irritated. It was a dangerous thing for him to say, all things considered, so much had changed about James that new hatreds may well have grown as well, so Silver carried on speaking before Flint could. “Besides, we’ve established I cannot cook a pig, you should have told me it was done.”

If it was possible, Flints’ expression grew even more irritated.

“Just take the fucking thing off the fire and serve it up.” Flint growled at him before turning on his heel and going back to his maps and papers again.

Silver was going to call that progress, after all, he didn’t get slammed up against any rocks this time.

(Not that he wouldn’t mind being slammed up against things in a different context, but that seemed rather unlikely at this juncture and quite possibly attempting to change that would prove a hindrance to plan ‘Stay Alive’.)

When the careening of the ship started to go disastrously wrong Silver threw Flint the cleaver but didn’t stick around to watch. For one potentially getting squashed by the ship was not something he wanted for himself, and for two a man get his leg cut off was not something he ever wanted to witness. It only occurred to him as Morley and Flint reappeared carrying the now one legged Randall that had he not given them the knife they might not have gotten out of there in time, and all his troubles would be over. Gates and Billy might also know but he was too slippery for them to be able to catch, and the Guthrie woman had her own problems to deal with.

Silver couldn’t find it in himself to regret it though, the thought of Flint getting crushed beneath a ship did not sit well in his stomach.

Later Flint returned the cleaver to him, both he and the cleaver still covered in Randall’s blood, Silver could tell something had shifted even before Flint asked him about what he had heard that night between Billy and Morley.

Silver wanted to ask about the woman, even more so when he saw the quiet expression on Flint’s face when he mentioned the woman. But Flint just turned and walked away and Silver had no choice but to let him.

It was getting dark by the time Silver was Flint again, and from the looks of him he had just received some rather bad news. He was also heading straight for Silver.

“What – hey! I haven’t done anything.” Silver protested as Flint grabbed him by the shoulder of his shirt and started dragging him bodily away from the beach. “Well, other than what you already know about of course.” Back on the beach Billy was shouting orders and two people were carrying Randall inland as well.

Flint only began to elaborate as he hauled Silver towards Eleanor Guthrie’s tavern.

“The Andromache is leaving without unloading her guns. We need them.”

“And that equals you manhandling me up the beach how?” Silver complained, not that he was trying to get out from Flint’s grip.

“You’re not coming with us, and I need to be sure you’re not going to run off.”

“I suppose I can’t fault you there, I absolutely would run off.” Silver agreed and he wasn’t sure if he imagined the quirk of Flint’s lips or not it was gone so fast.

Silver ended up handcuffed to Randall and discovered why Eleanor Guthrie hated him so much; she couldn’t handle her own guilt about what had happened to Max.

She was also losing control of the street, which made her dangerous. But he had perfected his silver tongue after all, he got her to lift the ban on Vane.

Apparently she thought she was the only person in the world who could dissuade Flint from killing him. Silver didn’t believe it, he had faith yet that he might be able to do that himself, more inclined to make himself useful to Flint instead of in debt to Eleanor; but he took her deal anyway, as an insurance policy, being in her good graces couldn’t hurt after all.

Flint returned with the guns – some of the guns at least – but without Billy. Flint seemed ever so slightly adrift to Silver, it made him wonder if he’d had anything to do with Billy’s _accident_ , he got the feeling even Flint wasn’t sure.

Eleanor kept her word and put herself between him and Flint, though Silver had the sinking feeling that it had only served to undo some of the progress he had made with Flint himself. Any manipulations Silver employed where Flint was involved would clearly have to be far subtler in the future. 

Silver resisted the urge to ask what had happened to Billy as Flint marched him back to the beach, but he could never abide silences when there were so many unknowns.

“So who is our new quartermaster?”

“You are not part of this crew.” Flint replied flatly, not pausing in his stride.

“You and I may know that, but as far as the rest of the crew believes, I am. And it is rather important to keep them thinking that way. So, for the sake of pretence let’s pretend I am.” Silver countered, he thought he wasn’t going to get an answer as Flint strode on in silence for a few paces.

“It’s Dufrense.” Flint’s voice betrayed nothing of what he thought about that, Silver however faltered in his tracks, then having to scurry to catch back up.

It was difficult to come up with a word that described Dufrense, he was intelligent but not in the way Silver or Flint were, not in the manipulative or scheming ways you needed to be to survive this life. No, he was a facts and numbers man, and one that had a pretty ironic moral high horse considering he was a fucking pirate just like the rest of them.

“I don’t like him. Don’t trust him.” Silver said before he thought properly, Flint barked out a laugh.

“You barely know him, and why would I give a shit about what you think anyway.” Flint replied, finally stopping his march and turning to face Silver, presumably so that they could finish their conversation before reaching earshot of the rest of the crew.

“Because I’m good at reading people. You know I am otherwise I’d be dead by now. I know people, and someone like Dufrense is dangerous.”

Flint studied Silver’s face inscrutably for a few long moments before speaking. “Go find the tent housing the supplies for the galley, make a list of what you need, then bring it to me so I know you’re not going to poison or starve us before we next make port.”

It had nothing to do with Dufrense directly, but Silver knew Flint had heeded his warning about him.

 

 

Randall. Fucking Randall. Silver was never going to write off his suspicions as paranoia ever again. He had known that Randall knew something from the start but he’d ignored it. He’d underestimated the threat Randall posed because he was mad, Silver knew better than that, hell he actively tried to get people to underestimate him all the time.

Dufrense, Dr. Howell and DeGroot now all knew and Silver had precisely no way of warning Flint. He would normally be solely worried about himself at this point and leave anyone else to fend for their own survival; but in this he and Flint were intertwined. Dufrense, Dr. Howell and DeGroot all saw it as both his and Flint’s crime, Silver had been the real thief but Flint had murdered Singleton for the crime. Dufrense was suggesting Flint had known Singleton did not have the page all along, that it was a convenient way to get rid of a potential usurper, Silver found himself wanting to say that wasn’t true, that Flint really did believe Singleton had it, but right now him and Flint appearing as a pair, a team in this crime, would only worsen their situation.

The three of them put him out of earshot when they realised he was listening, back in the tent with Randall, so Silver got to work.

He planted the seeds of doubt in Randall’s mind, easily done as they might very well be weighing up the pros and cons of killing Randall versus potentially losing the _Urca_ , they were pirates after all, it was all too believable. A vast fortune versus a one legged cripple, unfortunately Randall was so dim Silver couldn’t be sure if his message had quite sunk in.

Their test was ridiculous and Silver felt a sudden urgency, trying to make a deal with Randall that would get him back on the ship and keep them both alive. He got through to him, apparently, Silver actually managed to find himself amused as Randall started randomly accusing everyone in the vicinity of being a thief.

The rush of adrenalin that always followed narrowly avoiding death was there, though it wasn’t as pronounced as it had been other times when he’d been considerably closer to the end. Normally that adrenalin would spur Silver into recklessly going and propositioning someone who hopefully wouldn’t mind being propositioned, but right now he neither had the time nor the freedom and was being corralled back onto the ship already. Probably for the best, lest he run into Flint and say something utterly stupid.

He did need to speak with the captain though. Silver had a feeling that no one was exactly going to fill him in that at least four more members of the crew knew Silver was the thief unless he did it himself. But unsurprisingly it was very difficult to find a plausible ruse that required him to see the captain, not to mention how hard it was likely to be to even get Flint to actually speak to him.    

“’Ey, where do you think you’re going? Eyes on Randall _all_ the time.” Logan yelled at him for what must have been the fifth time already, it was really beginning to piss Silver off.

“Look he’s eating an apple sat in his hammock, it’s not like he can _go_ anywhere.” Silver pointed out, picking up the peg leg for the umpteenth time and throwing it back on Randall’s lap only for it to promptly hit the floor again as Randall pushed it off. “I’ll be ten minutes, maximum.” He had no idea how long he would be, he had no idea if the captain would even agree to see him.

He left before Logan could yell at him again, heading out of the hold and straight up towards the captain’s cabin, luckily Logan had enough jobs of his own that he couldn’t waste time chasing after him. Night was drawing steadily in and you’d have to be blind not to see and feel the large storm front headed towards them, Silver hated being on ships during storms.

Silver knocked on the door to the Captain’s cabin and didn’t wait for an answer before going in – no need to give Flint the opportunity to refuse him entry after all.  

“What the fuck do you want.” Was the greeting he received as Flint glared up at him from his desk.

“Charming as ever I see.” Silver said as he sat down in the chair opposite Flint, much to the other man’s obvious displeasure. “We have a problem.”

“I’ve had nothing _but_ since you showed up.”

“Now now that’s not strictly true is it. After all, if I hadn’t stolen that page you wouldn’t have had a nice convenient way to dispatch that rather troublesome Singleton fellow now would you?.” Silver asked smiling widely at Flint who looked like he was just barely restraining himself from punching him in the face, or worse.

“Get to the point.”

“Dufrense, Dr Howell and DeGroot all know I’m the thief.” Silver stated matter-of-factly, Flint shot out of his seat, fists clenched on the table top.

“How? And why aren’t you dead.”

“Apparently Randall wasn’t so out of it when I was locked in the room with the Guthrie woman, he overheard a little too much, decided to tell them all that I was the thief. As for why I’m not dead – and why you’re not too, they rather think we were in this together I’m afraid – well, that was relatively simple. It was easy to see that Randall’s accusation was prompted by his removal from the ship and my assumption of his old role, obviously he wanted me dead and his old position back. I pointed out to Randall that in the choice between a chance at a fortune and a half-witted cripple, he was just as likely to wind up the dead one as I was.

“They devised a test – an absurd test – where I was supposed to memories a page from one of the doctor’s manuals and recreate it from memory in five minutes; five minutes! I had three days to study the stolen page. I knew I would fail it so as they were examining my work I made a deal with Randall, I would offer to be responsible for him on the ship so that he could come back on board, if he withdrew his accusation. Not five minutes later he was accusing everyone in the tent of being the thief.” Silver preened as Flint looked grudgingly impressed, though he quickly schooled his face back into annoyance.

“Right. Get out.”

“What? No gratitude? No well done for averting that particular shit storm Mr Silver, no thank you for keeping me my captaincy _again_ Mr Silver.”

“All you’ve done is postpone the problem. They’re not going to it us get away with it, they just want the _Urca_ and its gold secured before they drag us out to answer for it.”

“I thought there was no us.” Silver replied sweetly, and he was surprised he didn’t get throttled from the look on Flint’s face.

“There _isn’t_.” Flint ground out. “But apparently the bunch of genius’ crewing this ship believes there is. Now get out.”

“But we need to strategize, come up with a plan to make sure we _don’t_ end up dead once we’ve secured the gold.”

Flint just ignored him. It only took Silver a few moments to realise that that probably meant that Flint already had a plan for how he was going to survive it, and that there was, as he had said before, no _we_.

“There was one other thing.” Silver added as he stood from his chair, Flint didn’t bother looking up from his papers. “Dufrense knew I was the thief before Randall accused me. Now I can think of only of two people who could have told him, my money would be on Billy before he fell, but you know both him and Gates better than I.”

Flint didn’t acknowledge him but he stopped writing and held very still. Silver left him to his thoughts, there wasn’t much more he could do now. He would have to give up the coordinates in a few hours, he could only hope he’d done enough to prevent Flint from killing him on the spot.

 

 

The _Urca_ wasn’t there. Silver knew his coordinates had been right but the chances of anyone believing him now was completely gone. He weighed up the merits of jumping off the ship and swimming to the bay. _Maybe_ he could get enough of a head start that he’d get away.

Flint wasn’t James and Flint would absolutely kill him for lying this time. Silver had to harshly remind himself of that every so often.

But Flint didn’t come for him like Silver thought he would, and it took him a few minutes to realise why. The _Urca_ wasn’t there, but Flint _believed_ him. Silver shouldn’t let it, but the thought touched him. Even though Flint could obviously just see that there would be no point in Silver lying this long as he clearly had no escape plan, that his information had matched up with Flint’s possible bay’s, that Flint still wouldn’t lift a finger to actually save Silver. But still, the fact that Flint believed him made him warm, even though he shouldn’t let it.

Then a Spanish Man of War came into view and Silver realised what Flint must have. It was the _Urca’s_ escort, she was around here somewhere.

Flint started shouting orders to prepare them to attack and Silver heard the discontent among the crew. They wanted to be taking a lightly defended treasure galleon, not a Man of War with one hundred guns.

Silver heard the words passing between DeGroot and Dufrense and knew he had to warn the James. _Flint_. He had to warn Flint.

Silver was not ready for what he saw when he ran back into the captain’ cabin.

Gates was dead, Flint was pointing a gun at him and Silver made a choice.

Really it was the only choice Silver was ever going to be able to make.

Flint looked so broken, like he couldn’t believe what he’d done, he wasn’t making any move to fix the situation, to make it survivable, so Silver would do it for him. He told himself and Flint that it was only because his survival relied on Flint’s, it made it easier.

“There’s no way out of this.”

“Take it from me, there’s always a way.”

Whatever Flint thought before, they were in it together now.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay i know i said this last time but from now on the chapters really will be set more apart from the episodes, as deleted scenes and extended scenes and between episodes and what have you, but because of the nature of the fic (that being canon compliant) and the fact that the whole of season one takes place over a very short space of time this chapter still needed to follow it pretty closely <3 Now the chappies will be far more about Silver and Flint's relationship and how it develops and of course whether or not Flint is ever going to remember who Silver was.
> 
> Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it! <3 Feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/) <3


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